The Sentinel in the Shadows
by Kampe
Summary: Azkaban, the wizard prison. Once, it was the glory of Albion where a just and fair couple ruled. It fell, and fate punished Merlin for his failure. Now a man has escaped, Sirius Black is on the loose and heading for Hogwarts. Merlin is hot on his trail with hope in his grasp, but hope is a fragile thing and Merlin's plan to resurrect his friends might shatter like his mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer-I do not own **_**Merlin **_**or **_**Harry Potter **_**those rights go to the BBC and J.K Rowling. I do own the poem though!**

**Hello! This is not entirely poetry; I just had this story idea and wrote a poem that sounded nice with it. There is the start of a story after the poem. I should probably be focusing on other stories, but I left my notes in the wrong place and cannot find them. Anyway, enough of my prattling Please enjoy the story!**

**1/1/16: Anyone who has previously read this story might notice a slight change in format. The changes are more obvious in later chapters as they pertain to the actual content of the story.**

**The Sentinel in the Shadows**

_**Chapter 1-Where Camelot Once Was**_

_**Creeping darkness swarms the halls**_**_  
><em>And reapers of shadows and hate<em>  
><em>Stalk through dusk<em>  
><em>Absolute<em>  
><em>Where fear is feared<em>  
><em>And insanity takes hold<em>_**

_**The Prison that once was**_**_  
><em>A castle<em>  
><em>Where hope ruled and magic flowed<em>  
><em>Once there was happiness and light<em>  
><em>Where darkness never won<em>_**

_**Shades of those days**_**_  
><em>Roam free<em>  
><em>They rot<em>  
><em>Together<em>  
><em>Their only friend locked<em>  
><em>Away<em>  
><em>Beyond their<em>  
><em>Reach<em>_**

_**Evil-doers and innocents gather**_**_  
><em>Mould<em>  
><em>Deep in the gloom<em>  
><em>Far out to sea<em>_**

_**Once it was a beacon**_**_  
><em>Ruled by a King<em>  
><em>But he died<em>  
><em>On the fields of Camalann<em>  
><em>His friend failed<em>  
><em>To save him<em>_**

_**Once it was unity**_**_  
><em>Ruled by a Queen<em>  
><em>But old age stole her<em>  
><em>In her sleep<em>  
><em>Her friend was unable<em>  
><em>To halt it<em>_**

_**Once it was protected**_**_  
><em>Guarded by a Warlock<em>  
><em>But he could not defend them<em>  
><em>From death<em>_**

_**Now his mind is**_**_  
><em>Shattered<em>  
><em>Like a mirror<em>  
><em>In a fit of rage<em>  
><em>Silence<em>  
><em>Is all he knows<em>_**

_**He is alone**_**_  
><em>In that Prison<em>  
><em>That was once<em>  
><em>Camelot<em>  
><em>And is now<em>  
><em>Azkaban<em>_**

The corridors were filled with terrified whispers and insane shrieks. The prison guards swooped through the prison as silent sentinels. They drained the happiness from the captives, or at least that was what people assumed. They forced people to remember their worst moments, provoking gut-wrenching terror. They fed on the fear produced, leaving the victims weak and lifeless. They could even steal souls by sucking them from their mouths. It was horrible to see a man or woman reduced to little more than an empty shell.

They were the Dementors, the wardens of the wizard prison of Azkaban. They were supposed be vile, remorse-less, creatures with little will. This was not true though, they were the victims of a curse. There were thousands of them, all survivors of the battle of Camalann. Many never fought there; they had just been innocent peasants living in the lower town.

Morgana made no distinction, though, they were citizens of Camelot, and so they had to pay.

It was her final act, her final gift, her final spell. She amassed her anger and her hatred; she then covered the town with its ugly splendour. It was kept at bay while the Once and Future Queen shone with hope and promise. Guinevere died without an heir, leaving the kingdom to her best friend.

Camelot crumbled.

He tried everything, the Queen's friend, but it was fate's revenge. He failed his destiny, and he paid the consequences. His friends became the Dementors, forced to feed on fear. They wept silently, unable to stop themselves. The Queen's friend could not end them and give them the peaceful sleep they deserved. No, fate forced him to watch from the tower room that was once his home. He could do nothing but stare at those shinning crystals, and they could do nothing but feast.

So Camelot became Azkaban, where the Dementors roamed with ever-increasing guilt. Prisoners came, prisoners left, but all in all it stayed the same. None escaped, and the Queen's friend lost a little more of himself with each broken person.

Then, after centuries of waiting, one man fled the prison without help.

In the late summer of 1993, Sirius Black slipped out of Azkaban.

Hope finally began to take root in splintered mind of the Queen's friend, and the crystals began to crack.

**So, should I continue? Or should I call it complete?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I saw all of the responses to this story and decided to write the next chapter! Thanks for reading, reviewing favouriting and/or following!**

**Review Responses**

**White-Falcon-06-****Thank you! I hope you like where the idea is going with this new chapter.**

**Vaultcat-****Thank you! Well, I hope this chapter lives up to your standards. Enjoy!**

**The Crossover****Addict-****Thanks! I was not sure if this idea would be **_**too **_**original, so thanks for settling my mind. Here's the next chapter, please enjoy it!**

**Aerist-****Thank you! I tried to keep the characters true to their personalities (Morgana's curse, Merlin's guilt), so I'm glad that it turned out alright. I'm also really glad that the idea was original, but interesting (sometimes my ideas are wacky and uninteresting). Enjoy the new chapter!**

_**Chapter 2- Ember**_

_**Glimmer of hope**_**_  
><em>Or remnant in the grate<em>  
><em>A wish granted<em>  
><em>Or a dying coal<em>  
><em>Dim embers burning<em>  
><em>Only to die in the wind<em>_**

Sirius Black had never labelled himself sane, but never before had he decided he was _in_sane. Of course, the years in Azkaban had given him far too long to contemplate the odd concept that was life, and he had begun to wonder if sanity – and by default insanity – was anything but a mirage to keep society in line.

He thought that sounded a little too much like a conspiracy. However, he was quite sure that insanity was relative, and possible nonexistent.

If the giant, black, shadow was anything to go by, he was tempted to conclude that something had gone very, very wrong to his mental processes. He had been wondering if such a thing might make itself known for a while now. After all, he had spent twelve years in a prison, isolated from human contact and basic amenities. It only made sense that he would have something to show from it.

Anyway, Sirius did not need to question his own senses at a time like this. He had a mission to complete; Pettigrew needed to pay for betraying James and Lily. It seemed Sirius was the only one who knew enough to bring vengeance down on the rat's head, so the job fell to him.

Part of him wondered how that could be. He had been the only other witness to the binding, and Remus had been given a slip of paper with the address printed in handwriting almost impossible to link to Pettigrew's own, but he had at least expected that a trial would bring the truth out.

_That's right_, Sirius thought bitterly. _There was no trial. No one looked beyond the farce. Not even Dumbledore._

He found his thick, upper lip curling into a sneer. He decided that the expression looked rather strange on a dog, but he was the only one there to see it reflected in the shallow puddle at his feet. He shook his matted, dark fur, dislodging the remnants of the impromptu shower that had ended just minutes ago.

Sirius sighed as he sat on his haunches and stared up at the peculiar shadow. Now that he was paying attention, he could see that it was not a shadow at all. No, it was hundreds of black, tiny, little, diamonds that seemed to glitter every so often. Sirius glared harder at the thing, willing it to get it to reveal all of its secrets. It merely shimmered condescendingly down at him, reminding him strongly of the twinkle imbedded in Dumbledore's eye.

Sirius shook himself again, only to find himself even more irate at the instinctual way his tail tucked beneath him in fear. Sometimes, he hated Padfoot's form.

The man found his thoughts drifting once more, as they were wont to do when his body was still and his attention unfocused. It was an annoying habit, one that had limited his ability to learn Occlumency as a child. His mother had been ever so displeased.

Sirius shuddered and yanked himself from the past. Part of him wondered how Grimmauld Place was doing. It would be the last place anyone thought to look for him. They knew how he despised the place. Even if they thought he had been fooling them for years, the sort of contempt he had shown was hardly easy to fake. Still, it was best he stay away for now.

Sirius groaned mentally as he considered his other options. He had nowhere else to go. His apartment had likely been long since sold, and it would be far too dangerous to approach Remus Lupin. If it all went wrong and Remus ended up implicated… Well, Sirius knew that the Ministry was hardly lenient to werewolves.

He could almost see the long journey ahead, folding out like a trail tracing itself onto a map. In his mind's eye, he followed that rambling line. First, Wales to Surrey, England, then on to Scotland and finally Hogwarts.

_Peter_. Sirius grinned, yellowed teeth bared in a vicious snarl. He let out a rough laugh.

He shook himself again. If he wanted to make it to Hogsmeade by the end of the summer holidays, he would have to start moving. He had several weeks, but no wand or provisions. He closed his eyes, trying to forget the futility of his situation.

With a sharp bark, he leapt to his paws. Why was he waiting? He had miles to cover.

_Oh yes_, he thought grimly. _The shadow._

He sniffed at the abnormal thing, trying to the wince at the reflexive move. He reared back, pulling his nose away and doing his best to recover some of his dignity.

Sirius heard something like a chuckle breeze past his ear. It was almost like nature agreed with his assessment about the hopelessness of the situation. He barked something roughly translatable to, "Now even nature is against me. Damn you, universe!"

The dark laugh swept by Sirius again. It was wispy, like wind whispering through the trees – an eerie noise that never seemed to really come from anywhere. There was a reproachful edge to it. It reminded Sirius of Mrs. Potter when she scolded James for doing something mildly wrong, but the enigmatic quality of the voice made him wonder just what this being – if it was even a being, and not nature itself – classified as 'mildly wrong.'

As caught up as Sirius was in his own thoughts, there was no way he could have missed what happened next. Almost as though he were bewitched, he found his thoughts concentrated on the black shape above him. It had begun to glow a mysterious, and potent, gold. The diamonds seemed to be cracking down the middle; it was almost as if golden energy was forcing its way out from the inside. It was like a hatching dragon, dangerous, powerful and impossible to control.

The light grew, and grew. It seemed to illuminate nothing, yet at the same time make Sirius feel incredibly exposed. Soon he was squinting as spots danced before his eyes. The star – for that was what it had to be, he had decided, nothing else could shine so – had grown almost too bright to look at when it collapsed. It folded in on itself before condensing into a pinprick and coming to hover near the grass.

The light vanished and something, _no someone_, took its place.

The figure sprang to his feet with the agility of a cheetah. For a fraction of a second, the man's face was devoid of all emotion. It was gone so quickly, replaced with a cheerful grin, that Sirius decided that he had imagined it.

There was a sense of timelessness about the man. He was like a marble statue, carved into something without age or limit, something beautiful to be admired but never fully seen. The only discrepancy was his ears, which stuck out at a jaunty angle from beneath black feathers that must have been his hair. He smiled, showing gleaming white teeth.

Something strange lingered in his eyes. They seemed empty, like the eyes crafted into those Roman idols, as though they saw far beyond the everyday realm. They shone a bright, unrelenting blue that made Sirius shiver.

Naivety settled like a shroud over those orbs, fusing seamlessly with the power apparent there. The two ideas warred in Sirius' mind, as he fought to comprehend the persona that seemed to be steadily building itself over this otherworldly creature.

A headache pounded in Sirius' skull. Common sense told him to let his confusion slip away, lest he do himself greater harm. For once in his life, he listened.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, the young-man still grinning like a loon. There was a hunger in about him, a voracious need for something. Sirius had seen the look before, mainly in the eyes of his cousin, Bellatrix. He shivered. Comparing something to Bellatrix was never doo.

Suddenly, the man cocked his head and fixed a curious stare on Padfoot.

"Well, well Sirius," The man spoke softly with a deadly voice covered by a thick veneer of cheer and curiosity. Sirius himself was frozen to the spot, unable to detect the ice the man's voice yet still suspicious of the man's hidden nature. "I thought I might be finding you here." Padfoot just stared up at the young-man, still shocked for some unexplainable reason. "I have an offer for you."

Padfoot shook himself before swiftly transforming back to Sirius. He looked much better in dog-form, straggly, black, hair and rags that were no longer robes added to the 'escaped convict' effect. "What sort of deal?" Sirius inquired cautiously, despite brushing his past suspicions away, he was not going to trust this mysterious man.

"I'll get you Pettigrew, or I'll somehow get him arrested and you'll be cleared of all charges." The man stated with a merry vigour.

"In exchange?" Sirius asked his voice hoarse from lack of use. He glared stonily at the overly-joyful man, harbouring a sense of foreboding.

The young-man's grin got even wider, and Sirius was wondering if he was going to like his side of the bargain. "I need you to take custody of Harry Potter!" The young-man exclaimed excitedly. "Just keep him out of Dumbledore's grasp," His voice became worried and serious. "Don't show him the prophecy; don't train him to defeat Voldemort. I'll be dealing with that wannabe myself."

"Sounds good." Sirius decided, still hesitant but not entirely off the deal. He had been hoping to take Harry in anyway. No, it was the second part he was worried about. He did not want for Harry to have to defeat Voldemort, or to even fight him for that matter, but no preparation? "But how do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't!" The young-man replied cheerfully before rolling up his sleeves. "No dark-mark though."

His entire demenour reminded Sirius briefly of those Muggle children's cartoons, the one's where the hero was always upbeat and trying to save the world through what appeared to be the power of friendship.

Sirius snorted to himself before he demanded, "I want a magically binding oath."

"Eh, might as well."

The man grasped Sirius' foreman as Sirius grabbed his. Using his left hand, the man withdrew a pale wand from his pocket. It looked as if bark scales were covering it and was fashioned so that it tapered to a point. The other, blunt, end had a handgrip that had two sets of wings carved onto it, forming the actual grips.

"I…Ember, swear on my magic to capture Peter Pettigrew and turn him in to the Ministry of Magic in order to aid Sirius Black in clearing his own name. So be it." A golden thread slithered around their hands, signalling that 'Ember's' side of the contract was binding.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, swear on my magic to take official custody of Harry James Potter after I am declared innocent, or before then if I so decide. I also swear on my magic to not train him, or to knowingly allow others to train him in order to battle Lord Voldemort, this includes sharing knowledge about Voldemort's weaknesses and the prophecy. So be it." Sirius saw two more golden bands twine around their hands. He gritted his teeth as heat seared through his body. Ember seemed completely unaffected. He was just standing there with that unnerving grin on his face.

The pain died, and the bands along with it. Sirius was silent as he fought to recover from the drain on his magic. Ember, however, seemed not to care.

"That concludes our business. Though I suppose you'll want a lift to Surrey?" Ember queried in a voice that was just slightly too innocent.

Sirius blinked. "How?" he said, the word slithering slowly from his mouth as the rest of the question seemed to evaporate. "Never mind." He eyed Ember warily, puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind even as he struggled to stop them. He did not want to know more than he had to. He licked his cracked lips. They stung from the frigid air. "It would be appreciated."

Ember slung an arm around Sirius' shoulder and they disappeared with a small 'pop' the air left shimmering like in a heat wave.

They appeared in the middle of a dark park. Swings moved lazily in the breeze and leaves rustled like wings. Sirius felt a chill go down his spine. He glanced at Ember, only to find he could not quite see the man's face. The outline of what looked like a smirk was visible.

"I assume you'll be making your own way to Hogsmeade?" Ember had already removed his arm when he drawled in the way that only royals, and Malfoys, could. The man gave Sirius a sidelong glance, watching the – seemingly – older wizard nod. "I'll be seeing you then."

The noise of apparition was lost amongst the dull hoots of the pigeons, and Sirius wondered if there had even been a noise at all.

Ember flopped down on the surprisingly comfortable bed. With a wave of his hand, privacy spells made their home and the mirror lost its conscious. The man sighed and kicked his boots off, before staring at the ceiling in wonder.

It had been so long since he was free. He had lost himself to the darkness years ago; fate and Morgana had given him the worst possible punishment. He could do nothing as his people were turned into the fear-feasting Dementors. He could do nothing as the Wizarding World sunk into decline and the Old Religion died. He and the two dragons were the last of the Old Religion. It would die with them, and the world would be thrown into chaos.

Ember was not going to let that happen. For each destiny broken, another took its place. Arthur, Gwen, Gwaine, Lancelot, Freya, Nimueh, Morgause, Morgana, Mordred…all of them were parts of the Old Religion, and together they could bring it back. Albion would rise. He would see to it.

Merlin 'Emrys' Ambrosius had a goal far different to anyone else's. This, he realised with a private snicker, was not exactly abnormal. It was just like old times.

Ember was a good moniker – _Em_rys Am_br_osius. Admittedly, the surname was strange, he had never been quite sure what Geoffrey had been thinking, but most days he liked the way the foreign syllables rolled off of his tongue.

He bit his lip, the tang of copper quickly filling his mouth. He needed another name. His mind drifted back to the many books he had read during his confinement. There had been one, a good one – no, a good _series_. He growled under his breath. He abhorred it when his mind failed him.

He closed his eyes. Lion – that had been it. Leon, Lion… Names were all the same it the end.

His lips lifted slightly into an expression that belonged on Morgana's face. Leon. He remembered Leon, or at least he though he did. Leon was a brunette, right? No – he was blonde.

Merlin closed his eyes, trying to hide the tears of frustration. Despite it all, he would continue on and maybe, someday, he might see their faces.

Maybe, someday, it would not matter that he had forgotten his friends.

**One thing you should know -Merlin is not exactly a 'good' good guy. He is still on the light side, but he will act dark when no one is looking – and occasionally when people are looking. So, if this is not your cup of tea, this fic is not for you.**

**Merlin is referring to _The Dark is Rising Sequence_ by _Susan Cooper_.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, readers! I am sorry for the wait, but I had to update my other stories (the lesson? Do not have more than two fics running at the same time!). I would have been quicker, but I caught a month-long virus (it still refuses to die) and could not stare at my computer for too long. Anyway, I am back with more of this story!**

**Review Responses:**

**B Michi-****Thanks! I am glad it captured your interest. I hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**Aerist-****Yay! I was not sure if I could make Merlin come across as creepy, he's so nice in the show that it's difficult to get him right with a personality shift. I am very glad you enjoyed it, thanks for reviewing again, I hope you like this chapter just as much!**

**Farvanna-****Good, I am happy that you like it! Feel free to be sceptical, but don't worry, Merlin is not going to die, or go on a rampage and kill everyone. He might kill a few people, but mostly just Death Eaters. Thanks, I am really pleased that you like the idea! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!**

**ProcrastinationIsMyCrime-****Thank you so much! Thank goodness that my poem was understandable. I have been known to write some confusing poetry. I am so glad that you got the story behind it (doing it in poetry was easier than writing it all out). You liked the idea too? I was not sure how everyone would receive it, it's not exactly common. Thanks for the reassurance. I am very happy that the story is exciting, this chapter may not be as thrilling, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

**GoldenFireFish-****Thank you! I am very, very happy that you think I pulled of Merlin's insanity – if there is such a concept as insanity, I'm personally skeptical – well. It is hard (for me) to pull off the balance between the Merlin in the series and his new personality in this story. Well, here is the next instalment, I really hope you like it!**

**Vaultcat-****Thanks for reviewing again! I am really pleased that you like where the story is heading and his new personality. I will hurry up and get us to Hogwarts. I am planning for the next one to be Diagon Alley (I am thinking Snape as a guide) for Merlin and a completely new route for Harry. After that the plan is to get them to Hogwarts. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Maverick14th-****Thank you! I am definitely glad that you like this fic and find it interesting. Yeah, I did find that he seemed to be very similar to the young Merlin in most crossovers. In my mind the time alone would have changed him. Maybe not as drastically as in this fic, but enough for any old friends to notice the difference and become worried. I like reading the sort of 'What if Merlin was not as nice or darker?' fics as well, it is interesting to see how he might have turned out. I did try to write this chapter, unfortunately I caught a virus and then saw how many other fics I had that needed updating. Anyway, thanks again! I hope this chapter is too your liking!**

**Lieutenant Luna-****Yep, insanity – if it is a thing, I find myself unsure as to its existence – can be fun to read and write! I am going to try and combine a mixture of 'Stand up and do an ode to Gryffindor in the middle of Snape's lesson' and 'Threaten someone with disembowelment for no particular reason and follow through with the threat'. **

_**Chapter 3-Past**_

_**It binds us **_**_  
>It writes us<br>It shapes us  
>It makes us<br>Forget or remember  
>Defend or prosecute<br>It is us  
>We are it<br>Our past is who we are  
>Our now is who we will be<em>**

Sirius Black stood in the middle of the park, stunned. He clutched a limp newspaper in his hand and blinked continuously at the date. Confusion overwhelmed his senses like a tsunami reaching the shore. His hands began to shake, making the paper rustle noisily. His breaths came out as pants like they were prone to do when he was in dog form. Blackness filled his vision and a cyclone of dizziness swept over him. Then the tension just drained away. Shock, uncertainty and fear trickled down the drain to be replaced by calm, cool acceptance. For a moment, suspicion flitted across Sirius' mind, but it was soon abolished by his relaxing brain.

Sirius flicked his eyes towards the date again, marvelling at the power of his new acquaintance. The date on the newspaper read _'Friday, 30th July 1993'_. Sirius allowed his brain to process the information serenely. He had come from Wednesday the 18th of August 1993. The year was right, the date was very wrong. Sirius found doubt entering his mind, mixed with confusion. He should be panicking, he had been panicking. Why was he not now? As soon as he heard the thought, it was gone. He became tranquil as if the idea was merely a joke. He began to root around in his pocket, mumbling to himself. "Right, godson, birthday..."

The swings rattled noisily in the wind and the roundabout squeaked mercilessly. A raven cawed loudly from the hedge-grow, its eyes shimmering gold. A strange calm settled over the fugitive and the park, the wind stilling, the chill dissolving. One of the raven's silky, black feathers drifted to the ground as the black-eyed bird swooped off into the night.

Harry Potter yawned quietly before tucking his completed History of Magic homework under the loose floor-board. It was not exactly completed, but it was good enough for a thirteen-year-old who had to do it under the cover of the bed-sheets, at night. The loose floor-board under the bed held all of Harry's most important possessions. His completed homework (scrounged from the cupboard underneath the stairs with thanks to the Weasley Twins), a photo-album of his parents (a gift from Hagrid) and all his birthday presents along with the latest news from his best friends, Ron and Hermione. It was Harry's only link to the Wizarding World, the world where he was revered for defeating Voldemort as a one-year-old and surviving the killing curse. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, sometimes he wondered if that was all he was to the wizards and witches. Was he only a tool? Was he only an orphan allied forcibly to the light as he was honed for battle against Voldemort? Harry was pretty sure he was being honed, like a knife, or a sword. He had encountered Voldemort twice at Hogwarts – School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, although it was best not to mention that bit in the Dursley household – in the same number of years. That was not including all the other near-death experiences – including things such as a troll, unicorn-blood-drinking-teacher, three-headed-dog, killer-plants, and the-murderous-glare-of-Snape – he had, had during his first two years at Hogwarts. Was it too much to ask for a quiet third-year?

Due to all the attempts on his life, Harry had developed a keen sense of paranoia. The young wizard was not likely to show it in public; he only really worried about ordinary, school-related, things and Snape, who got his own category for general creepiness. Oh, and the Dursleys. His closest relatives had it out for him. They would probably throw a party if Harry were to die (the more gruesome his death, the better). When a small package flew through the window, Harry simply looked at it as it thudded on the floor. He blinked a couple of times and shrugged. It was neither Dursley nor Snape nor school related; his paranoia did not even snore.

With hands shaking from lack of sleep, Harry scooped the little parcel into his hand, examining it closely. A scrap dirty cloth was tied in a haphazard knot, and he pried it open with some difficulty.

His confusion only mounted at what slipped out. A golden chain sat upon the carpeted floor, glimmering in the dim light. He reached down and scooped it up, cradling it like a dragon guarding its treasure.

The pendant was shaped like the Hogwarts crest, and a name was engraved upon it, but otherwise it was completely blank. _James Potter_, it read simply. Harry could feel intrigue building within him as he slipped the jewelry about his neck. He let the pendant rest in the palm of his hand. It was strangely warm.

A bemused frown curled upon his face as his brow furrowed in concentration. He glanced out of the open window, pressing his face to it in order to eliminate his reflection.

All Harry saw was a giant dog illuminated by the street-lamps. His breath misted upon the glass and he rubbed it off with his sleeve.

The dog was gone.

Marian undid the rusty bolts with pointed efficiency before dropping the chain with a rattle. The door creaked open to reveal a common sight. A police officer stood outside the front door next to a young boy. The child's cheeks were wet and his raven hair slightly singed. His clothes were simple, and he was clutching a red suitcase in his hand.

Marian removed a white sheaf of paper from the desk beside her. "Leon Simpson?" she asked, voice stern and unforgiving.

Merlin assessed her with eyes veiled by crocodile tears and mumbled in response. "Yes, miss."

"Good, I'll take him from here," Marian stated. The calm tone of her voice seemed to be less of tranquility and more of apathy, as though such an occurrence had become so inane that she had given up caring. Merlin decided that he did not like her much.

The police-officer smiled down at the boy one last time. "You'll be fine," she assured him before walking away without a backwards glance.

Marian pulled Merlin in. Her grasp was not particularly gentle, but nor was it painful. She closed the door with a resolute movement

"Now, Leon," she said. Despite how unused he was to the name, Merlin found himself listening solely due to the authority in her voice. "I am Marian and this is Ms Hirsch's Orphanage. You are in Colston, England."

She barely gave him time to let out a quiet conformation before she took him firmly by the hand and tugged him into the room next-door. It turned out to be an office with a simple oak desk and four padded chairs. A computer rested on the table and various information posters were on the walls. Merlin quickly memorized the map as he was pushed into one of the chairs. Marian took the seat behind the desk, her back straight and her gaze harsh.

"Leon, there are some simple rules to follow," Marian declared. Merlin almost groaned. There were always rules, and even though he could circumvent them, it was the sheer banality of the subject that irritated him.

"One, we adults are in charge. Ms Hirsch is the highest authority, I am second in command and Eleanor is third. Two, do not leave the grounds without permission from myself or another adult working here. Three, do not go into the girls' dormitories or onto their floor. Four, do not enter any dormitory, except your own, without permission from one of its inhabitants. Five, breakfast is from seven to seven thirty, lunch from twelve to one, and dinner from four thirty to five thirty. Six, homework is to be completed before any other activity."

Marian stared at Merlin until he muttered softly. "Yes, miss." He ran the rules back over in his head, noticing that he had missed half of what had been said. Internally, he shrugged.

"Now, there are other rules, but you will pick those up in time." Marian raised her voice and yelled, "Jeffery!"

A boy shot into the study, green eyes twinkling mischievously and shaggy, blonde, hair swaying. "Yes, Marian?" The boy, presumably Jeffrey, asked quickly. "It wasn't me!"

"What wasn't you?" Marian questioned sternly, her eyes slightly cold. "If you bleached the towels again, you're on probation for a week. Now, show Leon here to his room."

Jeffrey gulped before latching onto Merlin's shoulder and hauling other boy out of the room. Merlin shook him off as soon as the door closed behind him. "First floor second room on the left?" He asked brusquely, aware that the other boy would chalk it under grief.

"Yeah." Jeffery confirmed with his voice subdued and the shine melting from his eyes. It was quite clear what he wanted to ask.

"Five hours ago," Merlin said in a stiff, but soft voice. "The house burnt down."

Biting his lip, Jeffrey nodded sympathetically. "Not good," he said in subdued tone. "But you'll like it here – eventually."

The two boys walked in silence to the empty dormitory. Scaling the stairs with ease and traversing the wooden floor-boards without so much as a creak. Merlin was shown to the only unoccupied bed, which happened to be under the window. He dropped his trunk onto the old mattress, mentally counting down.

_5_

_4_

_3_

_2_

_1_

A screech tore through the air, just as a cream envelope landed in Merlin's lap.

The immortal could not help himself; hidden by the light, a dark smirk crept onto his face.

**Thank you to all the readers, reviewers, favouriters and followers who support this story by their continued reading!**

**Hope to see you soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! I know I said I would get Merlin to Diagon Alley this chapter, but I decided to do more on Harry's end instead. That means I would still really like to know who you want to take Merlin to the Alley next chapter. As for the development on Harry's end and the new variable, what do you think? I was not planning to have Gilli, but I thought that Merlin might like another Old Religion Magic-User for company. The secret to Gilli's long-life will be revealed later. Thanks for reading!**

**Review Responses:**

**Golden Fire Fish-****Thanks, especially because you reviewed again! It nice to see that you are still interested! Please enjoy the new chapter.**

**Vaultcat-****Thanks so much! This chapter is mainly just exploring the characters; the plot does not progress much so I hope you still enjoy it! I do try, so thank you for enjoying the story. If you ever want me to go over one of my chapter or stories, let me know. Well, I really hope you enjoy the update!**

_**Chapter 4- Family**_

_**Bonds unbreakable**_**_  
>Yet fragile at first glance<br>Many a cursed blessing  
>None a bitter gift<br>Relate and share  
>Argue and dispute<br>Together we stand  
>With loose ends trailing<br>Alone we stand  
>With morals shattered<br>Kith or Kin  
>Close yet Far<br>From darkest depths  
>We answer the call<em>**

Harry sighed miserably. He glared at the mirror, staring at the copious amount of gel in his hair. Aunt Petunia had finally got his messy locks to lie flat. However, it had taken an immense amount of gel and the result left him looking like Snape. Snape, though, had the excuse of cauldron fumes and long work hours. Harry only had his aunt to blame.

With a slight growl, Harry calmed himself. He was determined to play the perfect – or at least inconspicuous – child. If Harry wanted to go to Hogsmeade, which was the wizard village near Hogwarts, he would have to get his aunt or uncle to sign it the permission slip sent with his annual Hogwarts letter. Aware of how unlikely that would be, Harry had decided to use a certain event to get them to sign. Some would call it blackmail; Harry called it a done deal.

All Harry had to do was act like a Muggle boy attending what sounded like a foul school called St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. For a week, he had to keep up the charade and fool 'Aunt' Marge, who was Uncle Vernon's sister and a vulgar woman. She would be bringing her dog Ripper, and staying in the spare bedroom. Both Ripper and Marge hated Harry with an almost unparalleled passion, and enjoyed making the wizard squirm. In return, Harry loathed them.

The young wizard had gotten through Saturday – barely. He had silently recited passages of his broomstick care book, which had been a birthday present from Hermione, every time Marge insulted him. That basically equated to every other second. Harry had leapt the first hurdle, but the second was a pole vault, without a pole.

Harry would be up against the yearly Dursley-family reunion. Last year he had been on his own in a crowd of drunk adults. All of the kids there had hated him and had ganged up to take him out. It had been seven on one.

There were, technically, eight children in the extended Dursley family besides Harry. However, it was rare that the Camerons came to the reunion, and it was even rarer that anyone talked about them. They were actually _normal_. The rest of the Dursleys were not, despite what they told themselves.

So Harry hung back from the main Dursley party until his Uncle pushed him harshly into the car. Marge was going separately, so that was some relief at least. Harry drooped in his seat, mindlessly staring at his scuffed, black shoes to ignore Dudley's jibes. It took them about an hour to get there, only tall trees passing them by.

Vernon neatly parked as Marge sidled her vehicle beside his not long afterwards. The gravel lot just behind the imposing electric gates was filled with other, equally–stylish, cars. The majestic, stone house loomed above them, exuding a snobbish aura. The architecture was Georgian, with large windows, false balconies and a carved pediment atop the doorway. The front garden was carefully symmetrical, with flowers in neat rows and trimmed slopes of grass.

The chaotic family piled out of the car, Dudley going out Harry's side as an excuse to run his cousin over. Harry was soon hit by a door as he tried to climb out, but he refused to make a sound. Marge marched over to them, beginning to converse in a loud voice to Vernon and Petunia. After a few seconds of dilly-dallying due to the locked front door, a portly man, who just happened to be Vernon's odious first cousin, showed them into the house. The hostess greeted them with high, shrieking laughter. She cast a disdainful eye over Harry's crumpled, too-big, dress shirt and trousers. Her eyes lingered on his, holey, dull shoes and she gave a disgusted sniff. The wizard sighed, these were the only nice clothes he owned, other than Hogwarts robes, and he had worn them for four Dursley gatherings.

The host and hostess – Mr and Mrs Periwinkle – soon showed them to the garden. It was packed with guests that seemed to be clones of each other. They were a sea of blonde hair milling around a weather vane. To Harry, it looked like there was a mirror down the middle of the lawn.

It was extremely fashionable to arrive early in the Dursley family, which was why so many were there despite the fact that there was still half an hour left until the reunion started.

Harry's uncle was quickly greeted by a loud, booming voice. "I say, Vernon!" a slimy man in an impeccable suit, much like all the other men, exclaimed. "How wonderful to see you!"

The two men were soon droning on about governmental issues. This was a silent signal for Harry and the other Dursleys. Petunia immediately began gossiping with a lady in a purple cocktail dress, while Marge strolled off towards the buffet. Dudley was receiving hugs left and right, Harry knew that the boy would go back with several hundred pounds from bribes.

Harry slipped off into the crowd, quickly getting lost in the sea of elegant dresses and fancy suits. When he spotted a redhead his age, he quickly steered clear. Elaine Mackintosh would rat the young wizard out to her older brother, Samuel Mackintosh, ending in a brutal fight. Harry was going to go home amply injured, but that did not mean he had to run straight for trouble.

"Psst, Harry!" A high, and undoubtedly young, voice yelled from his right. Harry turned to face the noise, a grin stretching over his face. An arm tugged him out of the crowd and towards a spot behind a hedge. This was a secluded part of the garden, where weeds grew wild and bushes were feral. Harry still did not know why it had been neglected, even after eleven years.

"Gilli!" Harry responded happily. Julian Cameron was the wizard's only friend outside of school. The boy was almost two years younger than Harry, his birthday occurring on the 10th of March. Julian was Harry's cousin-in-law, his mother being one of Vernon's three sisters. "You came!".

"Dad had a meeting at work," Julian – known as Gilli to his friends – informed Harry cheerfully. He had dirt-brown hair mixed with ebony. His chocolate-brown eyes always seemed to carry experience and old pain. Despite his perpetual energy and joy, there was an air of wisdom about him. "They didn't want to come this year either, but I begged to see you." A crooked grin slipped onto Julian's face. "I wouldn't want to miss a chance to see my best friend!"

"Yeah, I missed you to," Harry said with utter sincerity. He could feel the smile that had stretched across his face. It went from ear to ear, and made his mouth ache. "Anything new on your end?" Harry could see that Gilli was ready to burst with excitement, the pursed lips and shinning eyes gave the other boy away.

"You were telling me about your boarding school in Scotland, yeah?" Gilli was grinning like a maniac as he leaned in closer to share his secret. If Harry had looked hard enough, he would have seen a sly edge to Julian's smile. "Well I got an acceptance letter for a school in the same country. It has this strange name. Hogwarts, I think?"

Harry gaped in surprise at Gilli's exclamation. His best friend had never said anything about accidental magic. Mind you, neither had Harry so there was not much stock in that. "Really?" Harry gasped enthusiastically. "School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"I thought it was a prank!" Gilli's face betrayed astonishment, but his expression was still tame. "Now, now I know it's real!"

"This is amazing!" Harry could do nothing but stare in perplexed glee and the realisation swirled about his mind.

"Tell me everything," Gilli demanded impatiently. "Please, Bolt?"

Harry was soon engrossed in his tales of Hogwarts. Even if he had not been, the teen would never have noticed the small glint of patronizing humour in Gilli's eyes.

Merlin grasped the envelope in his young hands. Bemusement was plastered on his face but inside he was utterly calm. Hogwarts' teachers had become so predictable.

It had been much better in the Founders' days, Merlin mused. He remembered building it, stacking the stones atop each other and weaving the wards about the castle. He had poured his heart and soul into it, desperate to forget Arthur who he had so recently lost. He remembered how the air hummed with enchantments, how he had laced the foundations with potent magic – _his _magic – and spells now lost to man. Hogwarts; it She was Friþstów for stéopcilum, sanctuary for those without protection. Merlin preferred to call her Frida, and she was his child.

If he closed his eyes he could almost smell it, the frozen dew upon the grass. He could feel the moonlight caressing his skin. He could hear the howl of a wolf far in the distance. His nostrils flared. The scent of the forest surrounded him, fresh and green with a hint of rot.

"Uh, Earth to Leon." A voice sliced through Merlin's memories. The warlock was immediately annoyed, his memories were precious things and were not to be rushed. "Hello? Anyone home?"

Merlin glared fiercely at Jeffery. The boy was irritating. Merlin shrugged, pushing his complaints to one side. Jeffery was simply enjoying his childhood, something Merlin had never been able to do.

"Yeah, what?" Merlin replied with a hint of frustration.

Jeffrey was unperturbed, simple blinking at the warlock's tone. "Aren't you going to open it?"

The Horned Owl perched on the window sill hooted in agreement. It ruffled its feathers with impatience. Merlin raised an eyebrow at the messenger, mentally reprimanding the bird.

Jeffery flopped down with a huff of annoyance. When the blonde made a grab for the letter, Merlin swiftly dodged. The warlock made sure to open the letter out of Jeffery's reach. His eyes skimmed the page, ignoring the second sheet of parchment and focusing on the first. He knew the words off by heart and only needed to read the acceptance letter for his front.

_Dear Mr. Simpson,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1st September. Due to your late acceptance, we will send a teacher immediately after this owl. Please have your answer prepared for our representative._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Merlin closed the letter quickly and stood up with pointed efficiency. "I need to see Marian," the warlock declared, inwardly hating his forced dependency. He did wonder, for a moment, why a member of staff had not delivered the letter personally. He chalked it down to his late acceptance into the school. Unfortunately he did not have enough energy to throw himself further back in time. It was more convenient to stay in early August anyway.

"Whoa there, mate!" Jeffery exclaimed immediately. Merlin knew immediately from the inflection that either Jeffrey had previously grown up in Australia, or one of the other boys had. Australian accents, Merlin mused, were refreshing. "What for?"

"This strange letter," Merlin replied in a slightly patronizing tone. "Come on." He was speaking to the owl, not Jeffery, at this point. The messenger flew over to the warlock's shoulder and Jeffery chose to follow Merlin back to the bureau.

Ignoring the blonde's incessant badgering, Merlin rushed to Marian's office. He stopped right in front of the lady just as she was closing the door. "I need to speak to you, Miss."

Marian took one look at the boy, the letter and the owl before letting him in. Pushing Jeffery back slightly, she shut the door in his face and turned towards Merlin. "You've been accepted into that Scottish boarding school, right?" Marian asked with an exasperated sigh. She plucked the envelope from his hands and read the address.

_Mr Leon Simpson  
>Dormitory 11 to 12 -First Floor, Second Room on the Left<br>Ms Hirsch's Orphanage  
>Saxon Lane<br>Somerset_

"It's them alright." Marian sighed and returned the letter to Leon. "Take a seat, a teacher will soon be here to explain." The gangly woman sat down behind her desk while Merlin lowered himself into a chair opposite. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to get a measure of the stranger in front of them. Marian narrowed her eyes at the enigmatic boy. Merlin wanted to growl at her for some reason. The tension in the room rose, the peak climbing and climbing.

A sharp ring pierced the pressure and Marian sighed in relief. Leon was making her hairs stand on end. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the bumps forming upon her arm.

With practiced efficiency, Marian rose to her feet and hurried out of the office. Merlin raised an eyebrow, letting a satisfied grin slip onto his face.

Plans swirling through his head, the warlock waited.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for taking so long. I have been treated to about four months of utter exhaustion and awful anxiety issues. I will still update, I just might take a while as I try to work around my life. I really enjoy writing this story though, and I have ideas lined up in my head for the next few chapters. The long break did give me time to write 4517 words (not including the line breaks, the chapter title or the poem) for this chapter.**_**Fai's smile**_**asked me to use Flitwick and a PMer (who I will not mention because they might not want me to) wanted me to use McGonagall, so I compromised. SPOILER ALERT- Flitwick will end up playing a large part in the story as Merlin's head of house later on as well.-SPOILER END. I also, because I wanted to, threw in Snape. The Diagon Alley trip (No. 1) will be concluded next chapter. Anyway, thanks for bearing with me!**

**Review Responses:**

**Ireth of Mirkwood-****Thanks for reviewing! Somerset is very nice, you live in a beautiful area! I hope you enjoy the new chapter.**

**Fai's****smile-****Sure thing! Flitwick is in this chapter, will come into play a bit more next chapter, and will feature as a secondary-main character in later chapters. I really tried to play on the fact that he does not belong to Dumbledore's (who**_**will**_**have his faults pointed out) posse. I hope I wrote Flitwick well. Enjoy the chapter, thank you for reviewing!**

**Lilythelunarian-****Thank you for reviewing!****Sorry about the short chapter last time! I am also really sorry for taking so long to update, I hope you still enjoy the story. Thank you so much, I'm just happy you like my writing. Please enjoy the new chapter!**

**Vaultcat-****Thank you so much for your review! Good, I'm glad you are okay with the momentary pause. You are welcome. If find that too, but I am never sure if people will prefer character development, or action...hmm. I am really glad you liked the introduction of different characters, I plan to throw a few more in next chapter as well when I write Merlin and Harry interaction. Thank you again! I really appreciate your continued reading of this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**RIGHT I am going to walk around with a giant smile on my face. Thank you to everyone! Readers, reviewers, followers, people-who-favourite-this, thank you so VERY much!**

**Chapter 5- Try to Change the World**

_**You can do your bit**_**_  
>To change the world in one day<br>But life does go on_**

Marian bustled to the door, relieved to be away from the boy. Leon was an uncanny mystery. He held himself with confidence beyond his years, while his angelic face hid a devil's heart. His blue eyes whispered the sort of curiosity seen on scientists' faces when they dissected a dead creature. For a moment, Marian thought that she saw something else in them, a hint of machinations or a flash of power. It was gone quickly and Marian decided it was just her fear playing with her mind.

The doorbell rang again, impatient and demanding, pulling Marian sharply from her thoughts. She shook her head and composed herself. The door-handle was inches away from her hand when the door-bell rang for a third time. Marian grabbed the brass handle, opening it with new determination. The sight that met her was not one she expected. Marian coughed slightly, trying her best to be polite despite her trepidation. "Welcome to Ms Hirsch's orphanage, how can I help you?"

"I am Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts, this is Professor Flitwick," A tall, stern woman replied with a strong Scottish accent.

"Are you here for the boy?" Marian enquired quickly, still blocking the entrance.

"Yes," A shorter man agreed with a warm smile. "Miss…?"

"Stewart. You had better come in, before the children get home."

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had not been sure what to expect when the Headmaster had called them to his office. Minerva had been fairly quick in responding, her loyalty to her superior almost unparalleled. Filius had taken a bit longer, mulling over the summons.

The Charms Professor may have been a member of the Light, but he had not joined the Order of the Phoenix. He was firmly within the belief that his loyalty, as a teacher, belonged with no one but the school and her pupils.

Oh yes, Professor Flitwick was fully aware of Hogwarts' sentience. He had heard her sing once or twice when a student became scared, he had heard her laugh when a staircase moved in an intentionally disruptive manner and he had heard her angry hisses when anything dark dared cross into her threshold. The one thing Filius had never heard, however, was her voice. He had never heard the words of the castle, well not until that morning.

The Charms Professor had been sitting at his desk reviewing his lesson plan. Completely absorbed in his work, the Duelling Champion did not even glance up as a ball of fire had erupted in in front of him. It took a particularly impatient screech from Fawkes to gain his attention. An apology later, the phoenix was gone and Filius Flitwick had his commands. Staring at the letter, he briefly wondered why the Headmaster wanted to see him, considering it seemed to contain nothing more than an extravagant 'Come to my office, now' Filius had every right to. He continued to ponder the note, intentionally stalling, until he heard the castle's hums. Frowning, he stood stock still, listening hard. The castle had never reacted without the students before, and even then…

Wait a second, were those words?

"Ærfæder!" Filius' eyes were growing wider and wider with ever second he listened to Hogwarts. "Ærfæder, þu bist eftcyme! Cleace! We giernedon þú. Ærfæder! Lóclóca! Lóclóca!"

The Professor knew only a little of Old English. He knew enough to recognise it as the language used by the castle, but not enough to translate it. All he caught was father, but even that was enough to make him curious. Silently listening to the castle babble on, he started to make his way to Dumbledore's office.

As it turned out the Headmaster had called Minerva as well. The Transfiguration Professor had been waiting for roughly twelve minutes inside the bureau. Filius considered apologising but decided against it. The School Curriculum was very important piece of work.

Ignoring the deputy's scowl, the old man's lemon drop and getting straight down to business, Flitwick discovered that Dumbledore required both him and Minerva to escort a freshly-enrolled Half-Blood and Muggle-Born around Diagon Alley. It had taken the Charms Professor mere moments to realise that Albus had wanted them out of the castle.

After making a flippant comment about the magic of list fading and how it should have been charmed by his house, the Ravenclaw had been treated to the sight of a fuming, yet gobsmacked, Minerva. Godric Gryffindor had been the equivalent of a Charms Master after all.

When the door had finally opened, Flitwick had wondered what the fuss was about. The orphanage worker, Marian Stewart she had said, was obviously worried about this boy. However, it was clear that the concern was not entirely _for _the boy, rather there was something in his manner that unnerved her. Looking at the young boy now, though, Filius failed to see what was wrong. The brunette child's blue eyes were wide with confusion, and innocence could be clearly seen on his face. Glancing sideways at the astonished face of Miss Stewart, the Charms Professor became determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Minerva McGonagall was rather more aware as to why Headmaster Dumbledore had sent both her and Filius. It _was _to get them out of castle, but it had nothing to do with the boys' late letters – that could be explained by a Damper, which was an amulet used by a magical relation to prevent outbursts and therefore detection - rather it was due to the churning of the magic at Hogwarts. The castle was stirring, her magic had become chaotic. Albus, who could detect Hogwarts' magic as headmaster, needed an empty castle to check why she was waking.

Earlier today the castle had only contained a few the teachers belonging to the Order and Filius. It had been simple enough to command the members away, but Dumbledore needed her to stop Flitwick returning too soon from Diagon Alley. By giving them both the ability to leave one in charge and go shopping, Dumbledore was, essentially, keeping their interest at Diagon Alley. It helped that the Dementors were already roaming the grounds and neither Flitwick nor McGonagall were particularly eager to return to dealing with the creatures.

Minerva broke out of the past as she strode sternly into the office. Her mind turned to Marian's apprehension and where it might have come from. The woman had seemed hesitant, like something about the boy frightened her. However, all McGonagall saw was a guiltless child, clearly overwhelmed and possibly close to tears. Leon was a regular Half-Blood child raised as a Muggle. Therefore, the Transfiguration Professor would treat him as such.

Merlin assessed the wizard and witch – Professors Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick he believed. His subjects had been very helpful; the Dementors were far more intelligent than the wizards assumed.

The warlock did not think either teacher would be an issue. The Transfiguration Professor believed him a Half-Blood with a Damper, quite normal when a wizard married a Muggle. The Charms Professor would be harder to fool. The duelling champion was already suspicious of Merlin, but he would be easy to elude.

It took Merlin mere seconds to process the information, seconds which he used to get to his feet and turn to face the newcomers. The door banged against wall and Flitwick's eyes narrowed. Merlin realised what he must have done, slowed time. Oops.

Minerva was oblivious to the concern of her colleague; speaking moments after Merlin had turned to face them. "Hello, Mister Simpson," The woman stated with a kindly smile in an attempt to reassure the harried boy. "My name is Professor McGonagall, this is Professor Flitwick. I must assume that you have read the letter?"

"Magic exists?" Merlin asked in a small whisper. His eyes were once again widening with fresh excitement, even after all those years magic was still a wonder. The Charms Professor relaxed slightly, the reaction was genuine.

"We found you, didn't we?" Minerva asked rhetorically, her expression softening.

"Wow," The warlock exclaimed breathlessly. His eyes wide and his mouth open in astonishment.

There was a short silence in which the heavy footfalls of children could be heard. Loud voices rang in the outer hall and the door slammed shut; the youngsters had finally returned from their Tuesday outing. The Transfiguration Professor was mute for a moment, allowing the noise to dissipate. Retrieving her wand from her pocket, the woman waved it in the direction of the door and muttered an incantation. Merlin instantly recognised the Imperturbable Charm. It seemed the Statute of Secrecy was still in effect. Merlin hated that piece of paper. Stuck behind bars, he had been forced to watch as a set of signatures ruined his life's work.

Pushing down his snarls of anger, the warlock acted accordingly. "Cool!" Merlin yelled enthusiastically. His right foot was tapping against the ground as if he was unable to keep still. "Was that magic?"

"You'll see a lot more of it at Hogwarts," Professor Flitwick said in a slightly squeaky voice. He beamed at the boy and waved his wooden stick. A muttered a charm slipped from his mouth and suddenly small, blue, chick-like birds flew from the stick. "And in Diagon Alley, as a matter of fact."

Merlin let his jaw go slack, quickly calculating his next move only to come up blank. He began to giggle, staring at the little animals. His titters turned to hysterical laughter, which soon morphed into sincere tears. His sobs filled the room, heartbroken and candid. He remembered his last years with Queen Guinevere, how magic had flown through Avalon. Now the sorcerers were all but gone, wizards were oppressed, discrimination ruled and Merlin was alone. Heartbroken wails filled the room and Merlin surrendered to sorrow.

"I think he's had a tiring day," Marian murmured as she patted the boy on the back. Her instincts and sense of duty had overridden her fears, there were somethings too deeply ingrained.

"Does he have anyone?" McGonagall asked swiftly, seemingly at loss of what to do. "Friends?"

"He arrived ten minutes ago," Marian informed the teacher. She was still attempting to comfort the boy. "Entered police custody three hours before that."

"He could join a club at Hogwarts," Filius pointed out, staring down at Merlin with undisguised pity. "But, I should think that he'll make friends without such a thing."

"Will Leon be safe? At your school, I mean," Marian asked with a flicker of trepidation. The two Professors exchanged glances. It was as though they knew.

Quickly, they tried to play it off.

"Do you think he plans to be friends with your Mister Potter?"

"Does he act like a regular Muggle-Born?"

"He's not going! If he's in danger there, he's not going. I have half a mind to withdraw the rest of them while I'm at it!"

"Miss Stewart, I assure you, if Mr. Simpson keeps his head he will be just fine," Minerva insisted desperately.

"Shouldn't we be helping him, rather than arguing?" The two women turned to stare at Flitwick who stood with an impatient expression on his face.

"A good point indeed."

After 'Leon' had finally calmed himself down and had informed the two teachers of his wish to attend, the trio left to pick up another student. Merlin had not enjoyed Side-Along Apparition, he much preferred Teleporting (which was silent, stable and, if you so wished, flashy). Swallowing sharply, the warlock allowed his stomach to calm before moving. Both teachers stayed with him, sympathetically remembering their first Side-Along Apparition.

"Ah, Damion! We're here to see Julian." Minerva had taken over when the door opened. Her firm manner encouraged the parents that their child was in safe hands.

"Our son is very excited about going to your school," The man, who had answered the door exclaimed as he ushered them in. "A change would do him some good. He's too quiet and serious. It's a good thing he has a friend going!"

"Friend?" Flitwick enquired sharply, wondering who the man was talking about.

"Yes, he-"

"You're not boring the guests with your blather, are you dear?" A woman's voice rang out from the kitchen. A blonde woman poked her head around the door a smile in her chocolate coloured eyes. "Julian, it's the people from Hogwarts!"

"Coming, Mom!" A young voice shouted down the stairs. Merlin stiffened, eyes widening, before composing himself moments later. He and the two Professors waited with Mr. and Mrs Cameron around the kitchen table. The adults were sipping hot tea as they paused for Julian. Merlin was scarfing down biscuits, suddenly very aware of the last thousand or so years without food.

"Mr. Simpson," Filius asked after Merlin had swallowed his fifth cookie. "When did you last eat?"

"They didn't have any food at the Police Station and I only just arrived at the orphanage," The warlock responded with a shrug before blushing bright red. "Sorry for eating so many biscuits, Mr. and Mrs Cameron."

"You should have something healthy too." Mrs Cameron waved it off. "Here, an orange!"

Merlin grinned sheepishly and said his thanks before devouring the fruit. At about the same time, footsteps could be heard thumping on the stairs. A hyper brunette rocketed into the room, obviously excited. He paused for a moment, his brow creasing in confusion as he stared at Merlin.

"Hello, Professors!" The chipper stranger greeted loudly, delight taking over his expression.

"Good afternoon, Mister Cameron!" Flitwick squeaked just as eagerly as the young boy. "Do you have your letter?"

"In my pocket."

"Good," McGonagall praised with a warm smile. "Do you mind if we take our leave?"

Julian's parents quickly agreed, having already met Minerva yesterday to straighten out the details. "Make sure you get that young man a meal!" Mrs Cameron added with a stern expression as she pointed at Merlin.

"Julian," Flitwick introduced. "Leon, Leon, Julian! I am sure you two will get on splendidly!" The two boys exchanged identical grins, almost as if they knew something the adults did not.

"Just Gilli."

"Leo's fine."

The four adults looked at each other in bemusement. What was going on with these two boys?

The two warlocks shared matching looks of amazement as the wall parted before them. Merlin had memorized the way in – from the dustbin three up, two across in an anti-clockwise direction – for when he came back, now though he was simply enjoying the moment. Even Gilli, who had been to the shopping centre of Wizarding Britain more times than he could count, had his breath taken away by the sheer _magic _of the place.

"Your lists, boys?" Filius questioned cheerfully, his eyes twinkling at the two wizards' delight. Even Professor McGonagall was smiling as she took in their glee. The children removed the pieces of parchment from their pockets, scanning through it.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Uniform  
><em>First year students will require:<br>1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
>2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear<br>3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
>4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)<br>Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags._

Set Books  
><em>All students should have a copy of each of the following.<br>_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk  
><em>A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot  
><em>Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling  
><em>A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch  
><em>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore  
><em>Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger  
><em>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander  
><em>Counters, Shields, Defence and Dark Creatures _by Lamia Marshall  
><em>Basic Charms _by Krystal Clear_

Other Equipment  
><em>1 wand<br>1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
>1 set glass or crystal phials<br>1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

Merlin frowned at the dragon-hide gloves before going on to laugh at the author names. Wincing at _'Lamia Marshall,'_ he went on to wonder who would call their child _'Krystal Clear.'_

"The robes first," McGonagall decided swiftly. "By the looks of you both, Flourish and Blots will be a long trip."

"Sir, ma'am, I don't have any money," The warlock admitted quietly as they walked through the bustling crowd.

"The Charter has guidelines for orphans," Filius assured him. "You'll be given five galleons, that's twenty five pound, worth of spending money to last this year and the next. In third year you'll get ten to last you until seventh year. Your lists are paid for by the school."

"It's twenty-nine Knuts to the Sickle and seventeen Sickles to the Galleon," Gilli explained unnecessarily, showing off the information he had, supposedly, gained yesterday.

"Thanks," Merlin muttered before going into a quiet contemplation. He was fairly sure he would need more cash before the year was out, considering he was an orphan with no money from his fabricated parents. All he currently owned was Excalibur, Clarent, Arthur's crown, a Pendragon cloak, three wands, a Sidhe staff, two neckerchiefs, his Arthurian wear, and a small collection of contemporary clothes. All of the modern garments were transfigured, but Merlin had never managed to get lasting Transfiguration quite right, leaving him with _very _itchy clothes. Thank the Old Religion that lasting transfiguration was not done until NEWT level.

_Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ was the shop they ended up walking into. Professor Flitwick left the group to go next door (_Omi-Obtainable: All You Could Ever Want!)_. He apparently needed to stock up on feathers, First Year and Second Years kept setting them alight, most of the time intentionally.

"Two for Hogwarts?" A stocky witch in deep blue robes queried before Professor McGonagall could speak. Rolling her eyes with annoyance, the Transfiguration Professor allowed her pupils to be carted off by Madam Malkin.

A good ten minutes later and the two boys were released with their new purchases. Filius and Minerva were waiting for them, the former with a large, shrunken, bag of feathers and the latter with an irritated expression.

The four of them quickly departed from the boutique and ducked in to the other shop next door, _Amanuensis Quills. _They were out again minutes later with a pair of 'Quill to Parchment Starter Kits' and several handsome eagle quills for the two Professors. Their trip to '_Perfect Potions!_' – a shop that sold gloves (_Fortisligna_ husk, the plant alternative to Dragon-hide, in Merlin's case) and sets of crystal phials – went just as smoothly. In fact, there was no sign of a problem until Potage's Cauldron Shop.

Professor McGonagall had separated from them so that she could visit _Twilfitt and Tatting's _for several sets of new robes. The Charms Professor was left to escort the two boys to buy their cauldrons, fully suspecting it would be an easy task.

"Have you _seen _the cauldron bottoms?" Merlin exclaimed quietly, his head lost underneath the pewter piece of equipment.

"What about them?" Julian asked in confusion, moving to stand beside his friend.

"How is anyone meant to brew a potion in this piece of scrap metal?"

"Leo, what's wrong?"

"Junk, absolute junk."

On the other side of the aisle, near the door, Flitwick was beginning to wonder what was taking the two so long. He would have gone to investigate, if at that moment another customer had not entered the shop.

"Severus!" The Dueling Champion said with a wide smile. "How wonderful to see you!"

"Escorting more of those brats around Diagon Alley?" Snape deadpanned in reply.

"Why so dour? School's starting soon."

"Brilliant, the Potter brat."

"Honestly, Harry is a wonderful student. You need to stop seeing _James' _son and remember Lily!"

The Potions' Master stiffened before swiftly changing the subject. "Speaking of students, don't you have two to worry about?"

"Oh yes. They should be with the Pewter Cauldrons."

The two Professors turned the corner and came across a very strange sight. The two boys were sticking their heads under various cauldrons and saying things like 'Nope, too lumpy.' 'Rubbish, utter rubbish.' 'Far too thin!' 'Fire hazard.' And 'Slow to the boil.'

"Mr. Simpson, Mr. Cameron, what are you doing?" The head of Ravenclaw demanded immediately. They both instantaneously snapped up straight, Merlin faster than Julian.

"We can't find a decent cauldron, Professor," The older warlock claimed. Gilli was preoccupied staring at the tall man behind Professor Flitwick; something about the stranger seemed familiar.

"And what has that got to do with sticking your head under it?"

"They're in a horrendous state, sir! I don't know how anyone could brew potions with these!"

"And, Mr Simpson, what do you know about Potions?"

"I cook, Professor."

"Potions, Mr Simpson."

"The bottom of the pan is generally expected to be flat and the same thickness all over. If isn't the food doesn't cook properly," Merlin insisted with a miffed expression upon his face.

"_Potions_, Mr Simpson."

"He's right, Filius," The black-clad man interrupted the debate, a frown on his face. "Unfortunately, Mr Simpson, you will have to make do. Trust me; I am even less happy about this."

"Sir, do you know when they started making these shoddy cauldrons?" Leon directed his question towards the foreboding man.

"I was fine, in school, during the seventies," The scowling male informed Merlin, who immediately fell silent.

"I've got it!" Gilli exclaimed, almost interrupting the stranger. "You're Professor Severus Snape! The youngest Potions Master ever!"

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. "What does it matter?" He snapped at Julian.

"Ignore him, sir; I do when he gets hyper," Merlin told the Potions Professor, leaving Gilli gawping with disbelief.

"You've known me for an hour!" The younger warlock pointed out angrily.

"And already I know when not to listen to you. Terrible, isn't it?"

"Leo!"

"Is there a Second Hand Shop?"

"Down the road, why?" Flitwick answered as he tried not to burst into laughter.

"These are all new."

The shopkeeper had been understandably annoyed when they left. Normally future students bought from his shop, it had been years since someone had complained. Thank goodness no one had heard them. The group of four was making their way to the Second Hand Store, _Grandma's Attic_, in the hopes of finding several cauldrons.

The shop itself was quiet, the customers browsing silently. The only sounds made were when someone plucked an item from the shelf and examined it before setting it back down. The six patrons and the manager gave the group odd looks as they entered, children never usually came in. The four received even more surprised stares when they gravitated towards the back of the store and eleven stained pewter pots.

A thorough scan revealed one cauldron with a hole in it, two cracked ones and one newer one. Seven were left, seven which were in perfect condition after a _Scourgify. _The manager was very surprised at their purchase, which was much cheaper than it would have been at Potage's. Apparently no one would risk buying old cauldrons.

"Minerva!" Filius squeaked as they exited the shop. The woman was staring around the street with eagle-eyes and tapping her foot impatiently.

"_There _you are!" McGonagall stated with a scolding tone, worry apparent in her manner. "What were you thinking, Filius! How was I to know Black hadn't got you?"

"Mutt couldn't kidnap a baby," Severus snorted disdainfully.

"Black?" Gilli asked in confusion, unaware of the latest Wizard issue.

"Heading to Hogwarts" Filius responded briefly. Tension had settled over the adults as the topic unfolded, it was clear in their stiff demeanours.

"Azkaban escapee," Merlin muttered to his fellow warlock. Both Snape and Flitwick's eyes narrowed.

"Don't underestimate him," McGonagall said with a firm glare. The Charms Professor was, as expected, gone on his desired break. "It's the Apothecary next, I believe." The Transfiguration Professor marched off, warlocks on her heels.

Snape was mumbling something derogatory under his breath as he trailed behind them. Both boys, who could hear him entirely too well, were overcome by sniggers.

"Enjoying our company, Severus?" The Gryffindor Head of House teased playfully.

"Hardly, Minerva," The Potions' Master replied sharply, still scowling darkly. "It's not my fault you're dragging the brats into my domain next, is it?"

"_Helpful _brats."

Gilli and Merlin decided to ignore the banter and disparaging remarks in favour of conversing quietly instead.

"So, how'd you do it?" the Dragonlord enquired softly.

"Nicholas Flamel," The younger warlock answered in a whisper. "You?"

"It's in the name. So that wasn't the first then?"

"I gave him the designs."

"Student?"

"Had to do _something _to pass the time."

Glancing ahead, Merlin verified they adults were still arguing before he continued. "Been to school before?"

"She misses you."

"Not my fault."

"Damn witch."

"I know how to revive it."

"What?"

"Balance, we need an exchange."

"We need Harry Potter."

"We need his destiny."

_Slug & Jiggers Apothecary_loomed ahead and, with the silence of the Professors, the two warlocks were forced to abort their conversation. Entering the shop, the two exchanged determined glances, before Merlin's face contorted into one of horror.

"This is TERRIBLE!" the Dragonlord shrieked. The high pitch of his voice surprised him just as much as the outburst surprised the shop's occupants. For a moment, they were all left reeling.

It was a good thing that only the quartet and the manager were there, the fallout would have been an interesting spectacle otherwise. As it was, the outcome was rather dull.

"What is it, Mr. Simpson?" McGonagall questioned crisply, her lips pursed.

"This is worse than the cauldrons!" Merlin yelled desperately, his years of training kicking in. "Gaius would give you an ear-full," He stated the last part to the confused manager.

"Gaius?" Minerva investigated.

"Uncle," Gilli responded promptly. "From what he told me, the man was a Potions expert in disguise."

"The state of this leech tank!" The older warlock screamed hysterically. "Look at it! Just look at it!"

"Mr. Simpson," Snape started with a slight smile.

"And these ingredients? Stale!" Merlin continued deaf to interruptions. "You call yourself an Apothecary?"

"Mr. Simpson," Severus repeated while the boy caught his breath. "Shouting won't help anything."

"Then I'll clean it!" Merlin screeched with fortitude in his voice and fire in his eyes. He swiveled to face the Potions Master. "What are the child-labor laws?"

"What?" The Professor stated, blinking.

The Dragonlord turned back to the startled shopkeeper. "A Galleon an hour. Starting tomorrow at seven, it'll be eight hours a day."

"R-right," The manager spluttered in agreement.

"We will both buy our ingredients in five days," Merlin decided firmly. "Professor, the choice is yours."

"See you in five days, Mr. Jiggers," Severus responded with a smirk. "I look forward to talking to you too, Mr. Simpson." The Potions Professor turned on his heel and exited with a dramatic swish of his cloak.

"Cool…" Gilli muttered, wide-eyed in awe.

"I think that's almost enough excitement for one day, boys," Professor McGonagall said severely with a fierce stare.

"But Professor…" Gilli moaned cheekily, his eyes watering.

"I said _almost_. First, food. Books, wands and pets after." McGonagall gave a rare smile. As two whooping boys rushed from the shop, she shook her head gently. "You can't change the world in one day," She murmured in Merlin's direction. "But you can certainly try."

**I should probably note (a bit late perhaps), that Merlin arrived at the orphanage on August the second. The Dursley family reunion was on the 1st of August. This chapter is also on the 2nd of August. Sorry!**

**Oh, and the timeline (except for Sirius' break-out date and time-travel) is canon (for now).**

_**The Old English should roughly translate to: Father! Father, you are coming! Hurry! We yearn for you. Father! Look! Look!**_

_**Please note that I do **__**not **__**know Old English. I used a translator, one that translated it one word at a time. So, if it is grammatically incorrect or the words are misused, please let me know.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**It's been awhile, sorry about that. This story will be continued. It even has a plot now! I'm terribly sorry for the **_**long, long**_**delay. Thanks to everyone who reads, follow, favorites, or reviews this story!**

**Guest: **I am very glad that you were looking forward to this chapter. I hope that I did not lose you to the long wait. I am really having fun with the characters of Gilli and Flitwick. Thank you!

**guest: **Thanks loads! I hope that you like this chapter.

**Kallie01:** Thank you. I am struggling to find the balance with Merlin's character, and I am glad that you like it! I toned him down a bit, this time, so I hope I have not messed that balance up. Ah, Harry will be fine, mostly, probably.

**Maverick14th:** I am so glad that you enjoyed that bit. I really like the cauldron scene myself – even if I do think that parts of it are out of character. You have some brilliant ideas and – if you will let me – I would love to do the scenes with the pompous wannabe and Dumbledore's snitching, unless you want to write the scenes. If you do, go ahead! Just let me know, I would love to read them. Sorry, I took ages to update this time. I hope you are still reading!

**Vaultcat:** Thanks for reviewing again and staying so interested in the story. The guest account is fine as I do not tend to PM reviewers unless they ask me a question that needs an urgent reply. I am glad that you liked the character interaction. I am trying to build up a good base for when they get to Hogwarts, with a bit of humor mixed in. Thank you so much!

**the-compulsive-tea-drinker:** I am sorry that I took so long. I am really happy to hear that you are enjoying the story. Thanks!

**Teekalin:** Thanks! Yeah, I made Dudley and Gilli related for just that reason. I really hope that you enjoy this chapter.

**KainVixenheim:** Glad you liked it! Thank you.

**Squish The Squirrel Fish:** Thank you! I hope you like the new chapter.

**Blueteam:** Thanks! And yes, I am finally back!

**Thank you to everyone! I am sorry that I failed to update within 2015, but here we are.**

**Chapter 6 – A New Age**

There was, Merlin realized, very little he could do about the situation. It had become a dismal fact in the last millennia that his interference was impossible, limited, or even entirely unnecessary.

He was sitting – eating in fact – when he saw them. The children were huddled together, whispering in low tones as they glanced about. They were leery, like skittish animals. It made him feel slightly sick. He had no doubt who they feared. Sirius Black was on their minds, and as much as Merlin wanted to go over to them and tell them that there was nothing to worry about when it came to Black, he knew that he could not.

He watched as one the elder ones led a younger sibling away by the hand. The child was crying.

"Leo?" Gilli's voice broke through his guilt. "You've hardly touched your shepherd's pie."

Merlin glanced down at his food. He would have liked to say that he was too nauseated to eat, but this was far from the case. His stomach screamed for food – the first he had consumed in so many years. His mouth watered.

He did not need to eat, not really, but it was extremely uncomfortable to deny himself what was necessary for the survival of a normal – mortal – person.

Merlin spooned the beef and potato into his mouth pointedly. He chewed, trying to tear his mind away from the group of children. He swallowed, the manners that Gaius had eventually succeeded in driving into him rearing their heads. "Just thinking," he said.

Gilli stared, tilting his head slightly as a solemn look sidled onto his face. "I supposed it's finally become habitual," he jibed. There was a hint of sorrow to his tone that threw the joke off. Merlin decided that it would be best not to respond.

McGonagall glanced between them, her lips molding into a thin line as she tried to decipher the subtext of the conversation. Flitwick took another sip of his stew and vaguely stared about at the customers of the Leaky Cauldron. His grey eyes lit up as they focused upon another patron.

"Lawrence!" he called with clear excitement. He got to his feet, but this did very little to draw attention to him due to his lack of height.

Still, it seemed the Lawrence, whoever he was, knew to squint through the bodies around him in order to find the diminutive Professor Flitwick. A man made his way over, dodging with practiced ease through the crowd. He was a skinny man, with a shock of unkempt mousy hair that was bound into a ponytail. A few, loose strands framed his bronze face and smattering of freckles adorned his nose. His smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"Filius," he declared in a smooth deep voice as he came to a stop before the group. "Minerva. How good to see you again."

McGonagall gave a tight smile. "Lawrence," she greeted in a voice warmed by years of acquaintance.

Flitwick grinned. "Finally back from Africa?" he queried cheerfully. "You disappeared at the end of the year. Gone, just like that!"

"I left a note, didn't I?" Lawrence pointed out with a raised eyebrow. It was difficult to tell if he was being serious, or just trying to rile the teachers up.

McGonagall scoffed. "'_Gone to Ethiopia' _hardly constitutes as informative. I would be stretched to even call it useful."

Lawrence spread his arms wide, almost knocking over a passing witch in the process. "But the art!" he protested with new exuberance. "I had to see the art!"

"Of course you did," McGonagall muttered. She turned to Gilli and Merlin, a look of resigned suffering clear upon her face. "This, boys, is Professor Crimp. He teaches the extra-curricular subject of Muggle Art."

"Hello, Professor," the two boys chorused in unison. Gilli still had his fork clutched idly in one hand. Gravy dribbled from it onto the table. Merlin felt his lips twitch at the sight.

Crimp waved a hand. "Don't mind me," he drawled in an offhand manner just as one of the waiters placed a mug of something dark, gloopy, and green before him. It bubbled, almost as though there were something inside breathing.

Flitwick and McGonagall eyed it with some distaste. Gilli blinked at it and then at Crimp, clearly confused as to why the man was drinking such an obviously vile concoction.

"What is it?" Merlin found himself asking.

Crimp swallowed a mouthful of the blend – it was almost impossible to in good consciousness call juice, and even liquid was a step too far – and replied, "BC Shake."

The so called shake frothed. The foam was a lurid orange. It looked noxious.

As if to allay Merlin's curiosity, Flitwick elaborated, "It's made from Bundimun and Chizpurfle excretions."

Merlin nodded as though he knew what those things were. _Magical creatures have become so strange,_ he decided. _At least Goblins have evolved nicely._ He shuddered slightly at the thought of the Goblin he remembered running a bank. The chaos would be unparalleled.

He shook himself, emerging from his thoughts to hastily shove another spoonful of food into his mouth. Gilli was mournfully eating his steak and ale pie with one hand, and wiping up the mess he had made with the other. His clean, linen napkin was stained a deep brown. It seemed to depress him.

Flitwick was chattering away to Crimp, who listened attentively, dark eyes never once straying from him. McGonagall seemed absorbed in the newspaper she had gotten delivered to the table, closer inspection revealed that she was staring at the crossword.

Merlin looked about with interest, taking in the various clientele of the pub. It was odd, he thought, to see so many with magical talent gathered in one place. He wondered if it was like this before the Purge. There was a sense of community – just like in the druid camps, if not quite as strong – as though everyone knew each other. He felt estranged, here. He was not one of them. His heart ached for his friends, for their camaraderie and easy friendship.

A hand nudged his shoulder, and Merlin glanced up. He still had Gilli, he reminded himself.

The other warlock was clearly concerned. "You're done, Leo," he said. "Stop shoveling air into your mouth."

Merlin noticed with some surprise that his bowl was, in fact, empty and that the spoon – halfway to his lips – was indeed bare except for the last few specks of potato.

"Oh," he replied. "Thanks."

McGonagall stood up, her movements stiff. "Well," she said with finality. "It's time we left, boys, Filius. It was nice to see you, Lawrence."

Crimp raised his suspicious drink in toast. "I'll be seeing you lot at Hogwarts," he declared. He winked at the two children. "Hope I'll be seeing you two in Muggle Art in a few years."

Merlin and Gilli replied with polite farewells that were almost lost under the boisterous goodbye of Flitwick. McGonagall ushered them from the pub before they could do much more. The Charms Professor struggled to keep up – and was forced to abandon Lawrence mid-handshake.

"Minerva!" he cried with some annoyance as they ventured into the open air. McGonagall was far too busy opening the alley to answer.

Merlin watched the interaction with some amusement as they trundled down the street. He could feel mental exhaustion settling around him like a blanket. He had not been this stimulated for years. The noises of Diagon Alley suddenly seemed unbearably loud. The crowd bustled around them, reeking of scented products and badly-disguised sweat. It was a relief to duck into the quiet, dark space that was Flourish and Blotts.

Browsing the bookshelves, Merlin vowed to return once he had completed his work at Slug and Jiggers. There were clearly many innovations that he needed to catch up on.

He opened one of the books – it was a promising purple color – only to find that the words swam before his eyes. He let out a low curse and muttered the translation spell he applied only hours before under his breath. He squinted at the unfamiliar letters. There was no change.

He rushed over to Gilli, shoving the tome into the other warlock's hands. "Can you read this?" he muttered.

Gilli frowned at him, bemused. His eyes flicked easily over the words. "Of course," he replied.

Merlin let out another curse – a particularly creative one he remembered hearing one of the police officers say almost out of his earshot. Gilli stared at him disapprovingly.

Uncaring, Merlin snatched the book back. He could not even decipher the title. Frustration was eating away at him. He growled under his breath. From his pocket, he withdrew his Hogwarts letter. He scanned it once more. It looked to be written in plain English, like he had learnt as a boy.

He froze.

Merlin bit his cheek. "Gilli," he said slowly. "Do the signs in Diagon Alley have translation charms on them?"

"Yes," said Gilli with faint confusion. "Yes, they do." Comprehension flashed through him. "Just like the Hogwarts letters!"

"I can't read." Merlin stared glumly at the purple cover. He had been so proud to be able to read. He had been the only one in his village, besides his mother, who could do so. In Camelot he had even picked up Latin and Greek – or Ancient Greek as it was now called. It had made him different from the other servants, made him stand out despite being a peasant. It was something legal that he could take pride in.

"Lighten up," said Gilli with an encouraging smile. "I'll teach you."

The words did little to cheer Merlin up, and he continued to brood as he bought the last of his books. Not even the prospect of getting a wand enlivened him; they promised to be equally useless. He was too busy stewing over the problem of his magic.

First, it had transported both himself and Sirius Black back in time, now it had failed to perform even the easiest of translation spells. He feared that his millennia in Azkaban had changed it, warped it, or – worse – stifled it. He fisted his hands. Today was not going his way.

Gilli barely bothered to look around as they entered the wand shop. He had been inside so many times that he had lost count. His wand was sitting there, reserved, in one of the many boxes lining the shelves. It was a friend, one far too old, and the entire process seemed to have lost meaning.

He nodded discreetly to Garrick Ollivander. Merlin seemed too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice.

McGonagall was troubled, it was clear from the way she shifted her weight and stared about with sharp eyes. Flitwick was strangely at ease, his jovial demeanor a blessed idiosyncrasy amongst the monotony.

Gilli glanced at Merlin out of the corner of his eye. It was different this time, he reminded himself. There was another warlock there; he was no longer alone to wander aimlessly through the ages. There was a goal, a rough plan even.

Gilli could not help but smile this time as his ancient wand – aspen and unicorn hair, thirteen inches – slid into his hand. It sparked at his fresh enthusiasm, humming in tune with the magic that swirled through the air.

Merlin was not quite as happy with the new restrictions of the era as Gilli was. He had never needed a focus before, but it seemed that he did now – providing he wanted to fit in at least.

_There's little chance of that if I have to write my assignments in Latin_, Merlin thought gloomily. He waved another wand, watching with detachment as part of the floor caved in. McGonagall took several steps towards the door. Even Flitwick seemed to be feeling the effects of demoralization.

Ollivander was only become more determined. There was a passionate glint to his pearly eyes, and he looked like a brilliant – if obsessed – scientist with the way his silver hair was standing on end. He clicked his tongue, gaze momentarily darting to the wand in the window. It would work in a pinch. Merlin had created it after all.

As Ollivander produced another wand, the teachers waited with baited breath. Gilli seemed unperturbed, and preoccupied with rolling his new focus about in his hand. A ring – an antique ring that Merlin could not help but recognize – glinted on his fingers.

Sighing, Merlin tried the new wand. He gave it a light swish, channeling a bit of his lethargic power and hoping that it did not shatter like the one before it. Abruptly, the stick began to vibrate in his hand, trembling with excitement and anticipation. From his feet, green began to spread. Thick, vibrant moss curled over the boards, dappled with small daisies and bluebells.

Ollivander beamed. "Lovely," he said, "Hornbeam with phoenix feather, seventeen inches." He rubbed his hands together as McGonagall sighed in relief. "Seven Galleons for each wand."

Flitwick fished out the required fourteen coins, giving his colleague time to collect herself. However, McGonagall did not regain her confidence until they had walked briskly out of the door and away from the shop. She stood, straight as a ramrod, but still somewhat wary.

"That was interesting," she managed to say, not quite able to meet Merlin's eyes. She glanced at her pocket watch, noticing what the two warlocks knew just from glancing at the sun. "It's getting on. We'll buy your pets, and then Filius will escort Mr. Cameron back to his parents. I gather – from your little scene in the apothecary – that you will be remaining at the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Simpson." It was clear from her raised eyebrow that she was back to her usual disposition.

Merlin did not even have the decency to look sheepish. "Gilli told me that was possible," he explained so that his little slip would not come back to bite.

Flitwick smiled. "Certainly!"

The pet shop turned out to be a nice enough place, if a little dimly lit. It had an entrance at each end of the alley that opened into a wide space above the rest of the buildings. The crimson awning outside the doors alternatively displayed _Magical_ and _Menagerie _in bold, jade letters. All sorts of exotic animals skittered about inside, some getting under foot and others contained to bizarre pens.

A small, lean creature with a long, spindly snout stood up on its hind legs, clawing eagerly at the bars. Merlin eyed it speculatively.

"Nifflers are not allowed at Hogwarts," McGonagall rebuked as soon as she noticed where he was staring. "They have been known to cause international incidents."

Before Merlin could ask just how one pet could cause an international incident in a school, Gilli piped up. "Look at these, Leo!"

Curiously, Merlin peered over Gilli's shoulder. Tiny beings whizzed about a large cage, their wings flapping at furious speeds. Several seemed to be playing aerial leapfrog. They looked like a cross between Sidhe and Goblins.

Merlin shuddered.

"No, Mr. Cameron," Flitwick said with a shudder as though recalling something particularly unpleasant.

Gilli shrugged, and instead stared at a fetid bog that appeared to be wriggling with larvae. Merlin decided to browse things that he could buy, rather than the various magical creatures whose names eluded him. He spied a large, content ginger cat with a squashed face sitting upon a cage of skipping rats, but it gave him a disdainful look and he decided against getting it. Instead, he found himself staring at a scrawny feline with fur the color of soot. He scooped it up.

"Freyja," he said decisively. It was a nice name, mythological. He had always loved listening to legends as a child, hearing of far away, mystical places and unexpected heroes. The cat – or maybe kitten, she was quite small – purred.

The shopkeeper glanced over and grunted, "Six Galleons."

Gilli, realizing how the sun was starting to dip, quickly made his choice. Without much thought, he scooped a handsome, great grey owl. It glared at him, ruffling its wings and staring pointedly away. He raised an eyebrow at it. "Immature." Suddenly, he grinned. "Merlin."

Merlin twitched. "You're naming your owl Merlin?"

Gilli was beaming. "Yeah, I think it suits him."

"Nah," said Merlin good-naturedly. "A Gaius, maybe, or an Uther."

The owl seemed to snort in disdain.

"You're right, definitely an Uther," Gilli agreed.

"Nine Galleons," said the cashier, and Flitwick dutifully handed over the money, but kept the receipt to show Gilli's parents.

They left the shop, a heavy cage dangling from Gilli's hand and a basket resting in Merlin's arms. The two adults had the shrunken bags in their pockets, and were enviably unencumbered. The first rays were beginning to trickle down the horizon. Garnet and gold played upon the clouds, fleeting like images from a projector.

Merlin sighed as he bid hid goodbyes and tromped up to his room at the Leaky Cauldron. McGonagall had promised to arrange the transport of his possessions, but he was far from worried about it. Everything important, he kept on his person.

Freyja immediately jumped onto the bed, spreading out regally as though she owned it. Merlin chuckled and flicked his new wand at her, surreptitiously checking to see if she was an Animagus. The spell came back negative. Good, his magic was still working – somewhat.

Merlin splashed water into his face. He stared into the mirror, watching how the rivulets ran down his chin and gathered in his damp neckerchief. Primordial – for that was the only way he could think to describe the primitive power that he saw – eyes stared back out of young sockets.

He sighed, watching his calloused knuckles whiten as he clutched the edge of the porcelain sink. His hands were rough, compared to the softened skin of today, for they bore marks of servitude and struggle. It was strange, seeing the manicured fingers of those around him. Wizards and witches could do anything they needed with a flick of a wand. They could waste their magic upon pitiful tasks without any consequences – or at least none that he could see.

A new age had come, and Merlin was struggling to keep up.


End file.
